Pipeclay.—How so, Major?
O'Sheevo.—Why, I knew a man who used to get a little jolly two or three times a-week, as occasion invited. Some well-meaning friends reproached him with the irregularity of his life, and pestered him to adopt a system, which, for the sake of peace and quietness, he at last did, and got blazing drunk every night; his own spirit didn't like the foreign invasion, and evacuated the place—that was system!
Lovell.—We don't much relish the idea of foreign invasion ourselves.
Pipeclay.—Let 'em come. If they intend to get a regular footing here, they would probably make a dash at Portland island.
Oldham.—Now my idea is this. Suppose them embarked in steamers, and starting for a point on our coast,—a few old fellows, who know what Frenchmen are made of, are stationed at all the landing-places, while a railway communication enables them to be quickly collected in one point.
Pipeclay.—I should object to old fellows as unfit for such sharp duties: active, intelligent young men would be better.
Oldham.—Pshaw! what's theory against Frenchmen? give me the old second battalion of the 107th before all the boys in the service.
Pipeclay.—And give me smart youngsters, who would move.
Oldham.—I'd like to see such Johnny Raws oppose a landing.
Pipeclay.—It stands to reason they must be better than a parcel of old worn-out sinners.